


Prompts From Without

by Tonko



Category: High School Musical (2006 2007 2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonko/pseuds/Tonko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Chad's U of A teammates is an idiot, and Sharpay spills some beans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompts From Without

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in 2009. Just a cliche-bunny that insisted on being written. Beta'd by [printfogey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/profile) (despite never having seen the films! What a trooper <3) and any remaining glitches are all mine.
> 
> Warnings: Very minor violence, a few nasty slurs.

Taylor and Gabi had set up a mailing list after graduation, as they'd all started heading off in various directions, and Chad didn't usually go a day without news from at least one of them showing up in his inbox. So he'd known Ryan was going to be around campus this weekend, he'd just forgotten the details till now.

For Chad, it had been a particularly busy few days, with practice, yeah, but also course work that he needed to put actual effort into to maintain his position on the team. Ryan was having a momentary lull in his busy Julliard schedule, and there'd been an email a couple days back about his upcoming long weekend and plans to visit, courtesy of being rich and able to pop cross-country whenever he wanted.. Chad had grinned when he read it, and responded with a “cool dude! see u soon!”

He hadn't gotten another email in between with any more information, and had half-forgotten, with everything else that was going on.

He came around the building where he'd just finished that freshman staple, Introduction to Psychology, and spotted the tight, patterned sweater and the complementary-coloured hat that Chad automatically knew was Ryan. There were some pretty camp-looking guys around campus, but even so, Chad recognized that particular one at fifty yards. The sweater, perfectly-fitted slacks, and coordinated fedora were just too obvious. The sight would have made him grin, normally.

Except that Ryan was backed up against a cement pillar, boxed in by three guys in a really threatening-looking way. Chad's heart sank and his anger reared up.

The crap cherry on that shit sundae was Chad's realization that one of the guys was his fellow Red Hawk, Jordan. Wearing his team jacket and everything. Chad swore viciously, and started moving.

He had never had a problem with Jordan, though he found the guy kind of confrontational and prone to stupid, as opposed to healthy, competitiveness. Chad didn't like him much, but he had to play with him, so he made the best of it. And the guy really _was_ good, so it had balanced out.

That opinion was undergoing a speedy adjustment right now, though, if, beyond Jordan's irritatingly manic rage to win, he was also this much of a fucking homophobe.

The Red Hawk locker room lacked much of the casual bigotry Chad might've expected—their star player's brother was gay, and he didn't tolerate anyone using homophobic slurs, even in jest. Chad had no illusions that most of the guys remained anything but pretty standard jocks, vocabulary and all, but he'd thought they were basically decent guys, and hadn't ever expected any of them to do anything like this.

Ryan had his arms crossed over his chest, despite the three people looming over him, and was staring up at Jordan with a look of such complete derisive dismissal that Chad felt nervous amusement bubble up, despite his anger at Jordan and whoever these other two were. But that expression wouldn't help Ryan much against three guys out to hurt him. Jordan was the tallest, at six foot three, but all three of them were pretty big.

This was mid-afternoon on campus, so maybe they wouldn't... but the between-class rush was over now, and this area was deserted, and Chad sure as hell wasn't taking any chances.

Chad jogged up and whistled sharply between his teeth. “Hey Jord, what you got there?” he asked, playing it easy, like he didn't know Ryan at all, like he didn't have a serious wish to curbstomp Jordan into the pavement just now.

Jordan tossed his shaggy blond head with a welcoming grin, and took a step over to let Chad become part of the wall of bodies around Ryan. Chad met Ryan's eyes and forced a wide smirk, winking at him. Ryan leveled his contemptuous gaze on Chad without hesitation, the corner of his mouth twitching the tiniest bit in acknowledgement. Chad hurriedly suppressed the relief that he'd arrived before anything happened. Jordan's height and bulk against Ryan's agility... Chad might have stood back to watch Ryan make Jordan look slow and stupid, if it had just been the two of them. But no amount of dancer's quickness, nor Ryan's self-possessed glaring, would've helped against three guys at the same time.

“Caught a fairy,” Jordan said, glancing eagerly at his two buddies, “right, guys?” and the three of them laughed with a certain nasty satisfaction that made Chad want to haul off and get into it right there. But he had to wait. He had to play this right. Ryan wouldn't give him away, either—he was the better actor out of both of them anyway, by a long shot.

“I'll say,” Chad replied, keeping his breathing even and easy, and forced out a laugh. “This one would've been hard to miss.” The answering unpleasant snickers from either side made him need to concentrated on not gritting his teeth.

“It's the hat,” Ryan said, sweetly venomous, “everyone loves the hats.”

“Sure, faggot. Do you wear it when you have a cock down your throat?” Jordan sneered, and Chad ripped his gaze from Ryan to see Jordan glance quickly at the other two guys, as if for approval, before returning to looming over Ryan.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” Ryan replied, unfazed. “Is that your kink?”

“Watch it, fag.”

“Why? What are you going to do? So far, neither your intelligence nor your imagination have impressed me.”

Jordan laughed, and it sounded forced, but ugly. “Fuck you, pansy. I'll do whatever I fuckin' well want. I don't see anyone round here to complain, either.” He grabbed for Ryan's hat. Chad was quicker, snatching it off Ryan's head to send it spinning a little ways off where it could land safely on the grass, instead of ending up on the dusty footpath or in the nearby recently-mulched flowerbed.

“Please,” Ryan sniffed, tossing his head, and Chad sensed Jordan stiffen up angrily, presumably at the lack of any visible fear or even nervousness on Ryan's part. “You don't know who you're dealing with.”

“Some dirty little queer,” Jordan snapped “We should rub your face off on the pavement so the rest of us don't have to look at you, then you can burn in hell with the rest of your faggot friends.”

Chad had to fight down a physical reaction to Jordan's words, and to the tension he could finally see starting to tighten Ryan's face.

Wait for it. Wait.

“Haha, yeaaaah,” the guy to Chad's right stretched out the word with anticipation, and the one on Jordan's left sniggered through his teeth.

“Oh, I think I'm quite on track with my life, actually,” Ryan replied airily and only a little slower on the mark than perfect.

“You're a cocksucking. Little. Queer,” Jordan said, biting off each word.

“You're not wrong,” Ryan's grin turned hard-edged and mocking.

Chad thought that, right about now, the shit was going to hit the fan.

Obliging Chad's expectations, Ryan said “Now that you've worked it out, are you thinking of asking for a lesson?”

Jordan gave a wordless snarl and drew back his fist.

Chad took a step forward and turned, just in time to catch Jordan's fist with his jaw

The blow made his head spin, but he didn't let himself stagger.

“The fuck, Chad?!” Jordan's incredulous exclamation made his voice jump a register or three, Ryan made a little noise, his hands coming lightly to rest on Chad's back. Chad rubbed the side of his hand over the place where Jordan had connected.

Two against three was better odds, but he had no desire to start anything for real. If he stood his ground, he hoped, these guys would just take off. Plain old after-school-special bully psychology, but hey.

Chad just stared at Jordan, stomping down on his apprehension to let his fury out at last. “Team spirit not too high on your list of priorities, huh, Jord?”

“But you—I thought—” Jordan's idiotic confusion was vaguely entertaining, but Chad had to make sure he got going before he got pissed again.

“Fuck off, Jordan. Get out of here before someone sees one of the Red Hawks trying to beat up a queer.”

“Chad, you can't tell Carson, you can't tell coach.” Jordan begged, and Chad leaned forward and up, hoping he could force his point before Jordan remembered which one of them was taller and heavier, and which one of them had more backup.

“Get the fuck away from here, Jord, before I go find them both,” Chad spat. Jordan backed up, his friends following suit, thank fucking god.

“We could take 'em, Jordie,” one of them said, “a nigger and a queer? Won't take a minute.”

Chad took a deep breath, held it, had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping something back aloud, anything to make the fuckers get back here so he could break their legs. Ryan's hands on his back spread open, fingers smoothing over him, managing to soothe through his layered shirts.

“Shut UP Kevin,” Jordan snarled, stricken, his face transformed from pure asshole to scared shitless, “Any more of this shit and I'll be off the team and then I'll just be fucked.”

Finally, they turned and left. Kevin slapped Jordan on the back, leaned down to say something, and Chad heard laughter, though not, he thought, from Jordan. The one whose name Chad still didn't know looked over his shoulder, grinning nastily. Chad found some hidden store of self-control, manufactured a contemptuous expression, and gave him the finger in return.

When the three had gone around the corner of the next building, Chad hissed out a long breath and moved over, letting himself lean against the column. Ryan's shoulder was solid against his for a few moments, and then he skipped forward to face him and peer at his face. Chad stared upward, counted to ten, and felt cool fingers against the tender spot on his chin that Jordan had just inflicted, and his gaze dropped to settle on Ryan while he calmed down.

The view did help.

“Well, my knight in shining armour, it seems like you've got yourself a battle scar,” Ryan said, and Chad watched his face, so close up as Ryan inspected the bruise. Chad hadn't seen Ryan in... well, not _that_ long, four months, really, since he'd left for New York well before the start of the semester, but it felt like longer, and his anger dwindled as the relief he was feeling right now ballooned hugely outward.

Ryan's eyes were narrow as he surveyed the damage, and though he met Chad's for a moment to give him a belated joking wink to go along with his comment, Chad could still see the tightness around his mouth.

“Pfft,” Chad managed, willing to let it become a joke if Ryan was. “Better my face than yours. I know you have that thing next week.”

“Oh,” Ryan stepped back, looking briefly touched, and it figured that he'd have more open emotional reaction to Chad remembering he had “a thing next week” than to having come within a few cutting remarks of what had most likely been heading towards a roughing up, if not worse. “I'm surprised you remembered that.”

Chad shrugged. He knew when Ryan had stuff going on, he read the emails. He pushed off the wall to go snatch up Ryan's hat up off the lawn. He held it out, and Ryan took it with hands that, Chad saw, were shaking a little.

Damn. Damn, _damn_. Fucking Jordan and his fucking pals.

Ryan handled his hat carefully, turning it and inspecting it, and finally put it back on, adjusting it with a flourish, and then he took a long, deep breath in, and out again, hands moving in a way Chad had to guess was yoga. “Well, thank you, kind sir, for seeing that my hat was spared,” he said, touching the brim with a finger.

Chad smiled, then glanced up and down the walkway, and gave Ryan a questioning look until Ryan indicated where he'd been originally heading, and they began to walk. “That's me—the defender of innocent hats.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said again, and Chad looked over at him again, seeing the tightness around his mouth again and the unusually stiff set of his shoulders. “You know...” Ryan said, almost inaudibly, then trailed off. Chad kept his mouth shut and just waited. “...I guess I got kind of used to not dealing with that.”

Oh. That made sense. Julliard was pretty unlikely to have the particular kind of asshole that Jordan apparently was.

“Not that I _can't_ deal with that, you realize,” Ryan added, voice slightly brittle with a little too much emphasis.

Chad made an affirmative sound. “No doubt, dude,” he said easily. And he did know it—he'd seen Ryan rip into homophobic kids back now and then at East High. Ryan was as unapologetic about that as he was his about his wardrobe, and did not take any shit about being gay. Plus, Sharpay, despite being, well, kind of a bitch, came down like a ton of pink, sparkly bricks on anyone who harassed her brother about it.

All in all, Chad suspected East High had a pretty good percentage less homophobic bullshit than the average public high school. Between that and Gabriella's whole clique-busting deal, they'd really had a good thing going. “But I don't care what kind of shit people are slinging—three against one is not cool.” He worked his aching jaw, then decided to change the subject. “So, is your evil sister around here somewhere?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” came Sharpay's voice from up ahead, bemused and imperious at once, and, yep, she definitely was, all pink and blond and dressed in some kind of fake-fur-trimmed pink-and-white deal. “Ryan, what on earth are you doing with this... mophead.”

“Hey now!” Chad protested, but her insult and his indignation were mostly routine, at this point, and frankly pretty comforting after what had just happened.

They weren't really friends, they didn't hang out together for fun, but they had each been a familiar face to the other on the campus at first, and he'd gone to the first coffee-house theater-department musical thingy she'd been at practically out of habit. Yes, Chad Danforth had ventured out to a gathering of the theatrical type all on his own. Well, okay, there'd also been free food.

She'd spotted him in the audience after finishing her song, and he still laughed whenever he remembered the expression she'd made. Again, they weren't exactly friends, but... the hatchet was pretty well buried and they coexisted with some kind of ease and occasional mutual support. He'd helped her carry an assload of textbooks and course packs out of the campus bookstore one time; she'd driven him to the hospital that day when his mother had been in a car accident--turned out she'd gotten a broken arm, which was not great, but so much better than he'd feared--and he couldn't think of who else to call with a car. And she'd texted him afterwards to ask (well, demand) how his mom was.

So they were on good enough terms that she'd deigned to speak to him after he showed up at another coffee-house, purely out of charity for him, she'd assured him later, and he had made a couple of actual buddies among the drama geeks, just a couple of weeks into fall classes. Why the hell not, anyway, it had turned out that they threw fun parties.

“My god, what happened to your face?” Sharpay demanded. “It's even more offensive to look at than usual.”

“He threw himself in danger's way on my behalf,” Ryan informed her, and Chad shrugged as she actually looked at him properly. He really didn't want to make anything of it. Ryan, however seemed to be fine with elaborating. “There were some unwashed commoners—”

“Three against one, the fuckers,” Chad muttered, letting out some of the disgusted anger he'd had to suppress at the time out at last.

“—who didn't like my... hat,” Ryan finished a little weakly, casting a sidelong look at Chad. A little smile of restrained thanks, and Chad answered it with one of his own. Ryan's widened, and Chad felt that funny spreading sensation of shaky relief all over again.

“Oh. Well.” Sharpay seemed lost for words, and Chad apparently chose the exact right time to look over at her, because he caught a flash of honest-to-god warmth in her eyes between the protective anger and the relief.

Yikes.

“I just made up in meat shield what he had covered in the verbal assault department,” Chad answered. His own wit in response to being called names had, after all, been to flip the bird. “No big deal.”

“Au contraire,” Sharpay retorted, “you protected a national treasure. Imagine that hideous bruising all over his lovely face! Or if he'd loosened a tooth, or—or broken his jaw!” The theatrical-sounding horror in her voice was fairly accurate mirror of Chad's own nauseated reaction to all those possibilities.

Because, for fuck's sake. Ryan was an awesome guy, talent up to _there_ , who had the balls to walk around in the world being exactly what he really was. That some people were so damned small-minded and dense that this scared them into being willing to attack him up for it... It wasn't that Chad didn't understand that discomfort to some degree—he did. He remembered laughing at Ryan along with other guys, because he was supposed to, he remembered not doing stuff because it was sissy. But hey, then he'd paid attention and pretty much grown out of being an idiot. Why couldn't everyone else?

“My hero,” announced Ryan, evidently content to make a return to his usual dramatic mannerisms at last. He batted his eyes at Chad, which was hilarious, and bounced forward half a step to peck a kiss on his cheek when Chad guffawed. Chad obligingly bowed in a vague approximation of what he'd seen lord-type characters do on TV and in movies, earning some giggling applause from Ryan.

Oh, yes, definitely glad he had arrived when he had. The relief was too huge for him to find the edges.

God, he wanted to talk to him now, catch up on all the stuff emails left out. But no, he had to let him go off with his scary sister and get his own ass to the library before his partner for the psych project decided he'd bailed.

“But, nah, man, it was all about the hat.” He flicked in the general direction of the brim, making Ryan duck back and make a face at him. Chad made one right back, though couldn't hold out over the grin that broke through it. “Anyway, you two go... do whatever you two do. I have to go to the library,” he continued ruefully, and made an offended grimace at the resulting mocking laughter. “See you, Ryan. I'll be around, just one practice this weekend... I guess, uh, call me if you want to hang out or whatever.” Oh god, he sounded lame. He turned decisively and walked towards the library.

Ryan called goodbye, and then he heard them already starting to chatter away, fast and high-pitched and sounding so much like he remembered that Chad slowed and half-turned his head to listen to it fade into the distance.

He finally started moving properly, fighting an unexpectedly strong desire to go back and catch up to them, project be damned—but really, come on, to listen to Evans-twins conversation for the next however long? His brain would revolt. Ryan was one thing, but Sharpay... He kept resolutely on towards the library.

He stopped short when he spotted Jordan. This time without his idiot pals, he was standing a little distance off and staring at Chad, some mixture of disgruntlement and anger and anxiety turned on full-blast. Not at Ryan anymore, no, this time it was definitely right at Chad.

Jordan must have seen the silly kiss Ryan had given him, Chad realized, which Chad hadn't even considered to be surprising.

Okay, so he was spending too much time among the drama people, it was official. A good few of the guys were gay or bi, yeah, but one of Sharpay's new groupies in particular, a short, cutely chubby and putting-the-”boy”-in-flamboyantly gay guy named Simeon, was always kissing everyone, Chad included—Chad especially, that one night—and he'd gotten used to it.

Well, there was that, and then there was the fact that he knew himself better, now, than to want to avoid a kiss from Ryan.

Jordan headed for him, and Chad didn't stop walking, forcing Jordan to speed up again as he got near, and finally grab Chad's shoulder. His grip was heavy, but Chad swiveled and smacked it away without hesitation and with more force than strictly necessary. “Fuck off, Jord.”

“I... You're a queer too!” Jordan sounded angry and on edge, but there was something in his voice that made Chad think he wasn't as angry as he looked. There wasn't any accusation or betrayal in his voice, which was odd, since Chad had just pulled the rug out from under him not ten minutes ago. “You let that little fag kiss you!”

Denying Jordan's statement would be a waste of breath, because you couldn't convince people away from stuff like that, and denying would be a lie anyway—Simeon had done a hell of a lot more than just kiss him on the cheek, that night, even if neither of them had any intention of taking that anywhere past Simeon's checkmark of “fucking a jock at college” and Chad's a-little-too-long in coming acceptance of “okay, I fully admit, guys are hot too,” so Chad just shrugged. He wasn't interested in discussing himself with Jordan. Then he finally looked sideways and glared, still furious enough to almost want to goad him into fighting for real. “You want in the club?”

Jordan turned an interesting colour, and Chad kept close tabs on his fists. They clenched tight, but stayed down. “Freak!” Jordan hissed. There was an air of desperation about it, though, that made Chad suddenly wonder if he'd hit a nerve. Huh. Well, that was not his problem, except to make sure Jordan didn't take his little doth-protesting-too-much attitude out on any more of the visibly gay people around campus.

“Whatever, white boy.” Chad raised his fist to grip at the strap of his bag, tightening it to make his bicep flex a little, along with the reminder of the other insult Jordan's friends had given. Jordan seemed to shrink into himself a little at that, and Chad grudgingly allowed that maybe the “nigger” comment had purely belonged to that fucker Kevin. “Make you a deal. You don't bother the queers, and I won't tell Carson or Coach that you risked tanking the team's rep by being a fucking bigot.”

Jordan's jaw set in a defensive glare, but Chad just waited, because the only other alternative was grabbing Ryan before he went back to New York and taking this whole thing to the administration. And then Jordan would be off the team and out of school. But he thought... hoped... there was a decent chance that, on his own, Jordan probably wouldn't do anything like that again.

And Chad had—barely—enough competitive drive of his own to want to avoid having one of their best guys expelled, even if he was a dick.

The glare turned into an expression that Chad couldn't quite unravel between sick and relieved—and still, due to macho pride, pissed off—and Jordan nodded, jaw clenched hard enough that Chad was almost expecting to hear teeth cracking. “Fine,” he ground out.

“Fine,” Chad nodded curtly.

Jordan started to shove past him. Chad stood, feet planted, making Jordan stumble around him, and added, sweetly, “See you at practice tonight.” Jordan made some kind of strangled growling sound, and moved on without any further reply.

Chad's grim satisfaction at the blackmailing carried him through the whole library-research-dammit-why-weren't-all-the-books-they-needed-on-the-same-floor ordeal, until it was sent to sleep by the Intro to Classics class he had later in the afternoon. Damn electives. Then, by the time the evening's practice came around, he'd actually almost forgotten about the whole Jordan vs. Ryan deal, until he had to explain away the bruise on his way into the locker room (“Turned around too quick at home and whammed myself on the freezer door,” he said, not entirely faking a wince, “but I got my mint chip, dammit, so it was worth it.”).

Then, while changing, he got a text on his phone from Ryan. “Party 2nite our house!”

He had enough time to answer “k c u after Bball practice” He dropped his phone back into his bag with a refreshed sense of anticipation, and got into his practice clothes and out onto the court raring to go.

He'd started to turn off higher brain function to sink into the comforting repetition of ball handling drills, when Jordan appeared, late, and endured a predictable harangue from Coach.

Jordan kept shooting furtive looks at Chad the whole practice long. Chad ignored him as much as he could and concentrated on the drills. Jordan, meanwhile, fumbled way too much, got yelled at again, and then they divided up for some play practice, and things got almost normal for a bit, until finally they were done, and everyone was moving out to change and leave.

Jordan had gotten a last few choice words from Coach about his tardiness, and Chad had waited for room in the showers to avoid having to go home before getting over to the Evans house, so by the time he was done, it ended up just the two of them among the lockers after the rest had gone.

Chad did his best to ignore Jordan, slamming his locker door to make his point, but he caught the ongoing staring in his peripheral vision, and finally gave in. “You realize staring at my ass in the locker room is really not gonna prop up your hetero manhood, right?”

Jordan's fists were tight at his sides, his faded track pants and shirt making him look worn-down and Chad struggled with a pang of pity, because Jordan actually looked like shit, now that Chad was paying attention.

“Those guys, they're my brothers,” Jordan said, his voice strained and his eyes fixed on some spot off to the side of Chad's actual face. “They—I'm not...”

“What?” Chad snapped, but he felt unwilling understanding sinking in already, despite all efforts against it. People did things against their better judgement because they needed approval from people, needed to fit in. He knew that. He'd used that excuse before, to mess with Troy and Gabriella's relationship in a really shitty way, make Troy say things he didn't mean, because Chad had been jealous and shortsighted at the time. But he had _grown up_.

“They made me—”

“No,” Chad snapped. “You don't get to have bullshit excuses like that. You're here on the school's dime, and you fucking better act like you're grown up from high school or they won't keep funding your all-expenses-paid queer-bashing vacation. I'm sorry,” and god fucking dammit, he was, even if he didn't want to be, even if he did still want to smash Jordan's face into a locker or three for threatening Ryan, “if you're some oppressed and closeted jock trying to fake your way with your asshole brothers instead of being a man and owning your queerness, or whatever the fuck you've got going on.” Chad slung his bag over his shoulder, and moved around the bench in front of the locker row to head for the door. “But if you can't scrape together some... some integrity,” Chad added, wishing he had Taylor's quick vocabulary just then, “then stay the fuck away from the people who have enough spine not to hide, and let them do their thing.”

Jordan still didn't look at him, but he did nod once. “They were only on campus to visit,” he said stiffly, one of his hands fidgeting with the edge of his tee-shirt, “and I told them they can't come back.”

“Sure as shit better not,” Chad growled, and left.

God, he wanted a drink.

*

Simeon was warm and comfortably soft-bodied against Chad as he threw his arms around him for a celebratory hug. “Ryan told us! The hero of the hour! Oh honey, you're so brave!” Chad rolled his eyes and returned the hug, then accepted the smacking kiss on the forehead Simeon caught his face in both hands to deliver. He smelled like sweet alcohol and the rosemary-mint soap Chad remembered from his shower. “Oh, whoops,” Simeon giggled, stroking over the bruise as he released him, “didn't mean to aggravate that dashing wound.” He gave Chad another smile, still buzzed-looking, but fond as ever.

“I'll live,” Chad said dryly, and greeted some other familiar faces who'd been close enough to notice his arrival. Man, the night was looking up.

The half lit media room that the center of the party radiated out from wasn't far off, and Simeon dragged him there, then shooed him at the snack-laden table—Zeke was around somewhere, Chad knew just from looking at that spread. And he was ravenous, after the practice, so he made a beeline.

Chad inspected a flaky-looking thing before popping it into his mouth. It was a miniature cheese turnover or something—delicious, and he grabbed a few more, then looked around. The flatscreen was playing something in black and white that looked like a silent movie, which was just as well, since the sound system was going at a reasonable blast with something from... wait, he knew this one... “Cole Porter!” Chad remembered triumphantly, snapping his fingers.

“Now there's a surprise,” Ryan was there, sudden and welcome, with a beer for Chad, and something bright-coloured in a glass with fruit on top for himself. Chad eyed the fruity thing with interest. Maybe later. “I guess you really did learn something at college.”

“Well, you keep sending me those Youtube links. I liked this one!” He twisted the top off his beer, and waved the bottle in the general direction of the speakers, listening properly for a second, and joining in to the next line. “Baby, if I'm the bottom, you're the top!”

Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and his eyes glinted in a way that made Chad need to take a swallow of his nice, cold drink. “Interesting choice of words,” Ryan remarked, feigning only the barest interest.

“Should've waited for the Fred Astaire line,” Chad answered, with an exaggerated wince.

“Well, I don't know about that,” Ryan said, and this time his voice was lower, so Chad had to lean in to hear him over the music and the crowd. “Shar's been getting me up to date on some of the other stuff you've been... learning.”

Chad watched Ryan's gaze seek and land on Simeon, who was chattering animatedly with Casey, most likely about their costume budget for the next production. He took another swallow of beer, and hmmed quietly, feeling his face warm up a little. He and Simeon had slept together once only, after an improv night and the ensuing pub crawl a month after the beginning of fall classes.

It had been fun, and funny. A little drunken, and a lot relaxing. Simeon had been delighted and amused with Chad's inexperience, and Chad had never had an encounter quite so stress-free and friendly as that one. After the perhaps ten minutes of awkwardness the morning after, where each had tried to make sure the other knew neither of them wanted a boyfriend from this, things had pretty much gone back to normal, or as normal as things got with Simeon—he wasn't Ryan, but he had his own brand of crazy-fabulous.

Chad hadn't asked him to keep it a secret, maybe hoping at the time not to have to come out as bi on his own, but Simeon had anyway. “Sweetheart, I was thrilled to divest you of your guy-fucking virginity, but I don't kiss and tell,” he'd said a few weeks later, when Chad had commented about it. “If you wanted everyone to know, you'd have done that yourself.” Simeon had reached up to pat his cheek gently, smiled, and then changed the subject back to the trials and tribulations of getting the cloth and accessories he needed on the budget he had.

“Didn't realize her majesty had actually noticed. Or that she'd keep it quiet,” Chad said at last. Sharpay had seen them arriving on campus together the morning after, but she'd immediately hauled Simeon off to fit her for something and not looked back. He would never have guessed she'd paid him even the slightest attention. Or that if she had caught on, she'd have kept it quiet until now. Sharpay wasn't really the type to sit on hot gossip for long.

Well, he reflected, maybe it wasn't that hot, which was a strangely disgruntling feeling, because it had felt pretty damn big for him at the time.

Ryan shrugged. “She's got a few rules about particular things,” was all he said. Then he looked at Chad, kind of sideways, and frowning just slighty. “I wouldn't have expected to hear about that sort of thing from her first, though,” he remarked, the emphasis just barely on 'her'. Faint but detectable hurt flitted over his face, and Chad looked down for a moment. “Not—I mean, it's not your fault she knew and that she told me, I just...” Ryan shrugged and grimaced.

“No, I get it.” Chad shrugged. His new-found kind of ease around Simeon and the gay or bi drama folks had been one thing, coming clean about his own self-realization had been something else. Plus, he'd never really been sure how to tell people, anyway. “Was kinda... well, I had to, you know, get used to the idea. And I didn't... know what to say, exactly.”

“'I fuck guys too?'” Ryan suggested archly, and Chad almost snorted beer through his nose. “Yes, well, I admit to never having had the need to announce myself.”

“No, really?” Chad deadpanned, and got a pinch on the arm in return. “It's not 'cause I'm scared or anything,” he added suddenly. Because he wasn't. He expected Troy to be pretty shocked at first but ultimately okay with it, for his parents to be surprised but supportive, for Zeke to shrug, and possibly bake him something, and for Jason to express something eloquent along the lines of 'oh, okay.' And he'd bet good money on Gabriella being sweetly encouraging and on Taylor telling him she'd known all along he swung both ways.

And Ryan... Well, maybe he hadn't been quite sure how _that_ would go. He had tried not to think about it.

Because his relationship with Ryan had never felt quite the same as with the rest of the guys. For the longest time, he'd thought it was only because Ryan was, well, pretty strikingly different from them. And maybe that really had been part of it. But the rest had only come into focus the evening of the day he and Simeon had arrived back at the campus together, when he'd gotten home and turned his computer on, and seen Ryan's email address in front of a subject line reading “OMG guys, SO MUCH WORK and I LOVE IT!”

And just over a year's worth of memories had slid home, piling into a big huge realization of just what that difference between Ryan and the others was.

“It's like, just,” he paused a second to sort out the words, “it's like... I didn't want people thinking it's, I dunno, a phase, or something.” He'd taken a few long, distracted days to snap back and forth from that idea himself, before cautiously accepting once and for all that it really hadn't been just some experiment. Long years of automatic denial had taken time to shake off. He was glad not be stuck with any of the stereotypical self-loathing, because it had been hard enough to realize just how totally he'd managed to dismiss his reactions all out of hand for so long. His own cautious survey of the newly-discovered territory in his internal landscape had taken a little while.

Chad took a slow drink of his beer, stuck in Ryan's focused, waiting gaze, not sure how to read the rest of the emotion behind those eyes.

Ryan was here with him now, tonight, but most of the time he was far away, would be far away for the foreseeable future.

Still, Chad's feelings had kept up all this time despite their separation, and he suspected that he might've been using the distance factor as an excuse not to tell Ryan and have to face the possibility of rejection. But here they both were, and dealing with it in person had to be best. Maybe getting it out there would be the first step to getting over it.

“And,” he said, “I didn't tell you 'cause I, uh, you're my friend, man, or I thought so, but then I worked it out and I figured out that's not actually what it was, probably. What I, uh, felt. Feel. You know?”

Ryan blinked, and Chad shifted slightly, aware that what had just come out of his mouth was less than clear, and Taylor would have despaired to hear him talk that way, but it was the best he could manage.

“And you—you're over in New York, over with tons of people way more, kinda, your type, and stuff, so I just didn't—”

Then Ryan raised a hand for him to be quiet and turned abruptly away, and Chad stopped talking, feeling frozen to the spot. Not afraid, definitely nervous, but mostly just... on pause, or something. He watched Ryan sip from his drink and stare into the milling, swaying crowd of people for some long, long moments. Ryan's jaw twitched once or twice. His light skin, shadowed sort of dusky in the dim room, looked really smooth over his cheek and his jaw and down his neck, until the collar of his shirt obstructed the view.

Oh lord. Getting turned down was going to blow all sort of ways. But at least it would be out of the way.

Then Ryan looked at him, sort of coy, not turning his body, only his head, so he was meeting Chad's eyes above the line of his shoulder. He started to smile, a little one that was getting wider, but not his big sparkly grin, it was softer than that. Chad felt 'pause' skip a few beats back into 'play,' but now with the volume and the bass cranked all the way up, because that smile was... holy fuck, was it ever promising, and Chad, well, it wasn't that he hadn't _hoped_ , because there was always hope, but there was also common sense and reality, and math wasn't his thing but he'd pegged his chances at some really miniscule fraction of a percentage.

“Remember that baseball game?” Ryan said, and Chad didn't need to ask which.

“Yeah.” Good times.

“Remember how I said your jersey got ruined in the wash?” Ryan had been very sorry at the time, and replaced the old thing with a brand new one.

“Oh. Yeah,” Chad said, a little nonplussed.

“It wasn't. I kept it. I still have it.”

“You do? Why? It was already old and—oh.” Ryan's expression had turned patient while the meaning dawned on Chad. “Really?” Chad asked. “I mean, really? That's... “ Chad grinned, feeling a little stupidly happy with how... _so freaking cute_ that was, and everything else that it implied, too.

“That's why Shar told me,” Ryan shrugged a little.

“Well, damn,” Chad raised his head to look for her, and couldn't help a noise of surprise escaping him when he spotted her watching them from across the room. She had a satisfied expression on her face, until he met her gaze, and it changed suddenly to a clear warning. She pointed two fingers at her narrowed eyes and then at him. Yikes. Then she kind of messed up the effect by smiling at them, though that was hardly less frightening. His face must have shown his reaction well enough, because, threat apparently made, she turned away and inserted herself into Simeon and Casey's conversation. “Oh god.”

Ryan laughed, the sound light and making Chad's chest tighten suddenly with the full understanding that, holy shit, Ryan _knew_ now, all of it, and that they were on the same page.

Well, now he knew what it felt like to win the lottery.

“Chad! Ryan!” Zeke's happy exclamation broke into Chad's haze of dazed glee. Ryan defused Chad's burst of sudden frustration by giving him a look so full of promise that he had a properly big smile again by the time Zeke got over to them.

“Dude, awesome spread,” he greeted as Zeke grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a hug. Then Chad was surprised by a little actual jealousy as Zeke engulfed Ryan in a hug as well. Because, dammit, he hadn't hardly even touched Ryan yet. Feeling kind of stupid, but still really wanting to, he shifted a little closer to Ryan after Zeke let him go, till their arms and shoulders met. It helped a little, especially when Ryan leaned into him for a second. Chad grinned contentedly and let Zeke's enthusiasm at being asked—more like told, Chad figured, not that Zeke would mind—by Sharpay to bake for her just wash over him, not really following all the reasons why the Evans kitchen was so spectacular, but, despite the timing, happy to see Zeke. Cooking school ate up a lot of his time.

Then he stood there and shrugged a lot, trying to look modest, after Zeke noticed the bruise on his jaw, and Ryan explained, with some exaggeration—“dramatic license!” he protested later—about how Chad had gotten it.

He still didn't think it had been that big of a deal, because it had just been the obvious thing to do, but he couldn't help the pride, either, at hearing Ryan describe the ordeal, getting really into Chad's heroic rescue of the hat, of course.

Much later in the evening, the flatscreen had been commandeered for some kind of Playstation 3 karaoke game for the remaining guests, almost all of whom were loudly and happily drunk as Sharpay snatched the mic from Ryan and got ready to get yet another perfect score.

Ryan backed out through the gathered bodies and stood next to Chad, behind the couch that had been dragged in from of the TV and which now had what looked like half the guests on it in a drunken puppy-pile. “Nice,” Chad complimented Ryan. He hadn't heard Ryan sing in ages, and even for a stupid game, in a room with no acoustics for really singing, he'd sounded wonderful.

“Thank you,” Ryan replied, with a proud, formal nod that he promptly ruined by rolling his eyes. “God knows getting a hundred percent on 'Chasing Cars' has been my life's crowning achievement.”

“I bet you can put it on your resume,” Chad nodded firmly.

“Mm-hm,” Ryan nodded. He raised one hand to cover a huge yawn, shook himself slightly, and blinked at Chad. It wasn't that late, barely two-thirty, but Ryan had been on an early flight. “Need caffeine,” he muttered, and latched onto Chad's wrist to drag him behind him.

The kitchen wasn't close by, and the sounds of karaoke game faded away before they got there. “You better not be expecting me to make it,” Chad told him, as he was pulled along towards the Evans kitchen, aka Zeke's paradise. Chad had been in here a couple times—the espresso machine was massive and frightening, and the even the coffee machine some giant electronic thing with a million buttons.

“We have Red Bull or something,” Ryan replied dismissively, looking over his shoulder as he spoke.

That turned out to be unwise, as Ryan stumbled a little over an area rug. Fatigue and alcohol hadn't driven off his reflexes completely, however, because he twisted, yanking on Chad's arm in a way that brought back muscle memory Chad had thought long-forgotten from that final school musical, and then Ryan was spun firmly into Chad's arms.

The change of position was abrupt, and Chad felt heat wash over him as Ryan's body collided with his. He was also perfectly comfortable.

Ryan looked contented enough as well, after the initial surprise wore off, leaning easily into Chad's grip, sleepy eyes and smile totally... just... perfect.

“Um, hi,” Chad said.

“Hi...” Ryan said, his fatigue drawing out the word into a long, easy sound. His arms were lightly pinned against Chad's chest like the girl on some romance-novel cover, and Chad could feel the warmth of his hands, and the pressure of his fingertips kneading at him.

Then Ryan shifted, pushed, and slid his arms around Chad's neck, tightening to pull him in. Lightly, and then, when Chad didn't resist, firm and fast. Chad missed Ryan's mouth a little at first, landing his first kiss over one corner. Ryan laughed in his throat, and they both adjusted enough to line up right.

Had Chad done this some hours ago, it would have been hard, and hungry, but he too was getting sleepy now, and Ryan felt so warm and relaxed in his arms, his thrumming energy depleted for this day, that everything else slowed down with it.

Ryan's mouth opened easily for him, tasting of that last fruit-covered thing he'd drunk before singing, and they kissed slowly, deliberately, and Chad enjoyed his healthy libido a lot, thank you, but damn, taking it a bit easy was niiiice.

The grip around his neck firmed a little, and Ryan's feet shifted, turning them so Chad's back hit the wall. The kiss broke then, Ryan's face coming to rest in his neck, his deep breathing slow and long as the kiss, and Chad adjusted his grip a little to keep him close.

“You wanna sleep over?” Ryan asked, shifting against him in a way reminiscent of someone settling in for bed. Chad felt warm, and entirely comfortable right here against the wall. He was pretty confident this could only get better if they were in a bed.

“Sure.” He rubbed his cheek against the side of Ryan's head.

Ryan didn't move for a few long moments, then let out a long sigh, and with some effort, pulled away from Chad. He grabbed for Chad's wrist again. “C'mon.”

*

It _was_ better.

Ryan's bed seemed vast, the sheets were soft, there were pillows to spare, and, best of all, Chad was in it with Ryan. They'd stripped each other down to underwear and fallen onto it in a loose-limbed embrace. Chad was delighted with the contrast between Ryan's tight navy briefs and his light skin. Chad's own boxers were red with yellow ducks on them, which made Ryan laugh, which made Chad laugh too.

They both shoved at the comforter until it was out of the way, and then Ryan braced his toes on the top of Chad's feet, tightening his arms around his neck and stretching, shifting on the mattress so that he was arched back a little, his stomach sliding against Chad's and the unmistakable shape and heat of an erection ground against Chad's hip.

Chad slid his hands around to Ryan's lower back and held him there, feeling that wave of warmth roll over him again, slow and comfortable and sparked through with hot little flashes of desire. Ryan was pulling him in for more kissing, and he closed his eyes. There were no lights on in the room, they hadn't bothered, already stumbling in their fatigue, so the dark was real, no intrusive brightness glowing through his eyelids. He kissed Ryan, tasting the traces of his sweet drink, feeling the slick, relaxed playfulness of his tongue and lips. Their kiss broke often into mouths pressed together over smiles and the low sounds of chuckling laughter. The noise of the sheets under their skin was soft, and when Chad opened his eyes again, the shadows of the dark were soft as well. Most of the colour had eased away into the night, grey and blue darkening to black covering everything around them. His eyes adjusted enough to see Ryan, pale in the dark. That was all he wanted to look at.

He drew away from Ryan enough to rest their foreheads together and look down between them. He moved his hands down over Ryan's ass, his fingers splaying to feel the curve of it. The cloth of Ryan's briefs were in the way, though, and he hooked one thumb over the waistband. Ryan moved his hips encouragingly and Chad pushed them down. He heard himself sigh, but barely noticed, his eyes on the sight of Ryan being exposed by his hands. The line of his hip no longer disappeared under cloth, and his obvious erection was freed carefully, Chad moving his around the front to pull the fabric away so it wouldn't catch. Ryan didn't need to be handled so delicately, Chad was well aware. Didn't mean he didn't want to savour things.

But, “slowpoke,” Ryan muttered. He moved his own hand down and gave a shimmy, stripping the briefs away in one smooth undulation.

“Damn,” Chad said. “I was enjoying the view, but that was hot.” And now he could put his hands anywhere down the length of this toned dancer's body, touch anything... He flattened a palm on Ryan's chest, sliding it down, down over his stomach, the skin smooth and warm, down farther where the fine hairs thickened to a trail, and down past Ryan's hip where the side of Chad's hand felt crinkly hairs and hot velvety smoothness before he went on over the lean muscle of Ryan's thigh.

He pulled his hand back up and curled it around Ryan's cock. Ryan's whole body made an eager, gentle thrust into the loose grip, but then his hands went to Chad's shorts.

“Hands off till you can share,” Ryan growled, grabbing at the waistband. Chad helped, and yanked them down over his legs and off with considerably less finesse than Ryan had.

“I'm all for sharing,” Chad said. “Take anything you like.” He bent his head forward into Ryan's neck, placing open-mouthed kisses so he could breath Ryan in, touching his teeth lightly to his skin.

“Arm here,” Ryan murmured distractedly, “hand here.” His head was leaned back, and Chad guessed that his eyes were closed, but he had one hand on Chad's wrist, pulling and tugging, shifting himself at the same time, until he had Chad's hand settled firmly on his ass, and both their cocks settled right against each other. “Yes. Good. Remember that,” he said, and then, to Chad's dismay, he pulled away, rolling over towards the edge of the bed.

Chad blinked at him, watch him paw through one drawer and then the other of the bedside table, heard a muttered curse. Ryan's skinny shape rose from the bed, moving pale in the dark room, disappearing on quick, hurrying feet to the ensuite bathroom. A cabinet door opened, then slammed, and Ryan was on his way back, a bottle in his hand. He landed on the bed with a whump, rolling up against Chad again, and Chad caught him up just the way he'd been told.

“You always were one of the good ones,” Ryan sighed, looking at him with such a smile that Chad had to swallow, seeing old fondness there, and the new thrill of having it all requited. He knew that exact feeling, after all.

“I'm just naturally physically gifted,” he replied easily, and Ryan laughed as he popped the cap on the bottle. A shake and a squeeze and then Ryan rubbed his hands together and reached down.

There was no cold shock; warmed slightly by Ryan's hands, the lube was merely cool, and only at first. Ryan's two hands slicked them both, his firm grip warming as his hands started to stroke the both of them.

And, oh god, Ryan's hands felt like perfection. Chad held onto Ryan's ass and thrust against him, into his grip, sliding along the hot, slick length that Ryan was keeping right against him. Ryan had rhythm in him, of course he did, his hands drawing Chad into smooth and wonderful thrusts, an even rise of momentum that left him just enough brain power to find Ryan's mouth with his own. Kissing by now was a clumsy thing, but all he needed was the contact, lips and tongue and breath a point of joined heat between them, a lesser echo of the slick motion lower down.

The soft dark was filled with the wet sounds of their movements, the heavy breathing that sped into sharper panting as Chad suddenly pulled Ryan even closer against him, so close to that threshold that he just needed... he thrust up and came with a groan of pure, self-indulgent pleasure.

“That was... pretty hot too,” Ryan said in a low, breathless voice. His smile was audible, which was handy since Chad's eyes were closed as he meandered down from his orgasm. He laughed slowly, and nuzzled forward until their mouths met again.

He took one of his hands off Ryan's ass, pulling it between them, sliding between Ryan's fingers to start stroking him through the slippery heat of body-warmed lube and come. Ryan made an eager sound in his throat as Chad closed his fingers properly around him, one hand landing awkwardly on Chad's wrist to guide him, the other reaching up to his shoulder.

“Yeah, like that...” he spoke through the kiss, “mm, faster,” he said next, and Chad obeyed with a wordless noise of acknowledgement. “Tighter,” Ryan told him, “more, more, muh—” his articulation failed him and his fingers dug into Chad's shoulder as he threw his head back and came in Chad's hand, the pulsing of his cock and the tightening and relaxing of his body filtering through Chad's blissed-out sleepiness to settle deep in his mind where he could remember them later.

“Bossy,” Chad whispered at him, pulling him close with his other arm.

“I just know what I want,” Ryan replied, running the backs of his fingers down Chad's chest and stomach. “And,” he added, “I love getting it.”

*

The next morning was, quite possibly, the most perfect one Chad had ever experienced. Before falling asleep, Ryan had shoved him until he'd followed him to the bathroom to clean up and, of all things, brush his teeth. He'd been asleep on his feet by that point, but, to be fair, the minty kissing afterwards as they'd staggered back to bed hadn't been half bad

And now Chad was in a giant, amazing, comfortable bed, having recently gotten laid, and within arm's reach was Ryan, face totally relaxed with sleep, hair mussed. The line of his neck, his bare shoulder, his arm flung up on the pillow... the morning light, even softened by the blinds, was still making Ryan look damn good, graceful even in his sleep. Chad stared for awhile, taking his time waking up completely. At some point he shifted, moving the pillow to a better spot under his head, and Ryan opened his eyes.

First he smiled, then his eyebrows pulled together in a frown, and he reached out to brush fingers over Chad's jaw. “What?” Chad asked, touching the spot. The slight tenderness when he prodded it reminded him all at once of yesterday's pre-party events. “Doesn't hurt,” he told Ryan firmly, catching Ryan's hand and squeezing it. “Ignore it,” Chad said. Ryan's frown intensified, and Chad amended “for now. Okay?”

“Kay...” Ryan answered slowly, sighing, shifting, and pressing his fingers against Chad's as his eyes drifted shut again.

Chad lay, still holding Ryan's hand loosely in his own, and thought.

Such extremes to the spectrum, he'd seen yesterday. Ryan, who was, well, Ryan, and stupid, stupid Jordan... but now, Chad was having trouble finding yesterday's fury again. The sick anger at the situation was still there, if he chose to dredge it up, but the personal fury at Jord seemed to have ebbed, replaced at least partly, he was incredulous to realize, with pity. Not even contempt anymore, but just... pity.

He tried to imagine it, tried to picture himself surrounded by people that would hate him for being bisexual. To _know_ that parents, family, maybe even friends, would turn on him, turn him out and away, for that one part of who he was, to be discarded like the bad apple so he couldn't spoil the barrel.

He was lucky.

Jordan wasn't.

Dammit, it wasn't fair. He couldn't even hate the guy.

He sighed deeply, swore under his breath. God, was it ever too early for thinking about all this kinda thing. He closed his eyes again, shifted a bit closer towards Ryan, and let himself fall asleep again.

 

*

“I can't believe you're doing this,” Chad said for the fifth or sixth time.

“Why are you that surprised? You were the one fretting about feeling sorry for him in the first place.”

“I—what? 'Fretting'?—I'm not the one he threw a punch at, though!”

“And I'm not the one he actually punched,” Ryan answered simply. “And you still feel bad for him.” Glowering, Chad pushed through the door, holding it open for Ryan to come in behind him, and shook his head. Yes, friends and girlfriends often came to practices, waiting with varying degrees of boredom for it to be over, but Chad, after explaining his distraction that morning, hadn't expected Ryan to ask to come along.

“Look,” Ryan said carefully, and Chad stopped walking to face him. “I know you think I don't understand all the angst because I'm, well, me,” he waved a hand at his tight black jeans, neat white polo shirt, and artfully tilted newsboy cap, “but some of those kids that would come after me back at East?” Ryan squinted and tilted his hand from side to side. “They were, well, afraid of themselves. And you know, some of them got over it because there was a flaming example running around to show them it was safe. More or less, at least.”

Chad grimaced. “I don't think Jord's gonna be off singing showtunes and get all well-adjusted just because you show up at practice.”

Ryan tilted his head. “Are you ashamed to have me there?” The question was matter-of-fact.

“No!!” Chad snapped, defensive even though Ryan's tone had made it plain that he knew that already. “I just... he tried to hit you!”

“I was winding him up,” Ryan said simply. The tightness around his mouth was back, Chad could see it. But Ryan was resolute. “Now, let's go. Sometimes the flaming example isn't the best one, you know.” He gave Chad a long look, and Chad, after a moment of surprise, took a long breath and let it out again. At East High, he'd been some kind of role model, or that's what Coach Bolton had always said, for sportsmanship, team spirit, all that jazz. But now, as a college freshman, he was on the low rung again. No one was looking to him for anything.

Unless, of course, he was the only example around _to_ look at.

Ryan patted his shoulder. “You'll get used to it. Now let's go. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been able to watch you play?”

*

In the locker room, Chad greeted and chatted with the rest of the guys already there, dumping his bag down and changing into his jersey and a pair of track pants. Jordan arrived after he did, and Chad joined in the generalized greeting with a noncommittal “hey.”

As they walked out onto the court, Chad looked over at the stands. There was Ryan, looking quite at ease despite being on his own between a clump of girlfriends that Chad hadn't yet matched to specific teammates and the mixed group that generally joined Carson after weekend practices. Ryan had his phone out, thumb moving over the keys, and if he was texting Sharpay, Chad absolutely did not want to know about it. Ryan did look up at the sound of the team coming out, though, and raked his eyes up and down Chad's body, expression mischievously appreciative. Chad grinned back, enjoying the anticipation of getting to show off for someone he cared about.

“Someone watching you today, huh?” Carson was behind him, and gave him a thump on the shoulder. Jordan was coming up alongside, looking at neither of them, hunched in on himself like last time.

“Yeah,” Chad said. He looked at Carson, and shrugged, trying for casual. “My boyfriend.” That felt strange to say. Good, though. Jordan came to a sudden halt, and Chad saw a few heads turn as other teammates filed past. Kay, Ilya, Johnny, Chris... but their surprise held no hostility when he met their eyes in turn. Some uncertainty maybe, but it was... well, it was okay. If any of his buddies from the team turned weird on him now, well, their loss, wasn't it?

Chad suspected it would be harder, in the long run, than he was pretending for now. He'd deal.

Carson's eyebrows rose at Chad's words, and then he grinned. “Well, you better put on a good show.” Chad nodded, and glanced at Jordan, who was staring outright, and looked like he'd been hit on the head with something heavy. Chad raised his own eyebrows at him, staring back at him challengingly for a moment, then turned away and jogged after Carson. That was that. Whatever Jordan did now was up to Jordan. Chad hoped, while allowing himself to acknowledge some compassion he still didn't want to feel for his teammate, that it might help, just enough to let Jord relax here, at least, let him enjoy the game again.

Time would tell, Chad guessed.

He cast another look at Ryan before heading for the spot Coach directed him to. Ryan was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, phone dangling uncaringly in one hand. Chad felt himself stand a little taller, and got to his place with a welcome feeling of someone's eyes on him. One thing he'd always had in common with Ryan: he did enjoy an audience.


End file.
